Sense8: New Cluster
by Oreh Keats
Summary: Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

The click of boots tapped against the white floor, and echoed through the corridor in the hospital. The origins of the sounds came from Whispers, as he power-walked toward the male nurse surrounded by his men. They parted to reveal the frightful nurse.

"Where is she?" Whispers demanded.

"W-Who?" He stammered.

Whispers grabbed him by the neck. "Blonde, 5'5, accent."

"I-I-I-" he stammered. Whispers growled before he threw the nurse to the ground.

"Search this floor. Search this hospital. Just find her!" He ordered.

Whispers voice echoed to the corridors to the storage room, Kala stood in. Kala with shaky hands put the rest of the supplies in the backpack. Her heart pumped as she headed to the door and peeked through. The elevator was only a few steps away, but with Whispers down the hall she'd be seen.

Kala prayed that the elevator would open and she could duck in and get to Riley. The door opened with a ping, and Kala burst through the door; glad her prayers had be heard. Kala knew she'd been seen as she heard the rapid click of boots coming after her.

Whispers charged toward the elevator door, as he saw Kala push all the buttons on the panel. Her eyes were lowered. Whispers felt the whispers of a bullet brush mere inches from himself. He stopped to a halt.

"Don't shoot!" He ordered.

Kala hid behind the panel as the doors shut. Kala stood, shocked as her eyes focused on the bullet-hole that had landed an inch from her head.

"Are you okay" Riley grunted. She stood hunched over clutching at her stomach.

Rileys presence woke, Kala from her shock. Kala wrapped her arms around Riley. "I'm fine. I've got the supplies. I'm coming to you."

* * *

Whispers stood outside the elevator and read the direction of the elevator. "Search every floor beneath this one! Ryan you stay with me!" He ordered.

The soldiers spread out. A fit bald man in his mid-thirties remained.

"You don't have much to worry about, sir. Our men have all the exits covered. They are sitting ducks."

"That's why I'm worried. They have been evading me for years, and now they let themselves be trapped. Something is happening."

* * *

The elevator doors opened to the basement for, Kala. Kala could hear the echoes Riley groans. Kala's heart ached from the sound of it. She ran down the corridor to where she had left, Riley. They all had decided this was the best place for, Riley to give birth to the next cluster.

Nomi had looked at the blueprints of the hospital, and found that tunnels that ran beneath the hospital from the hospital, so they could have a quick getaway. There was also left-over medical equipment like the gurney, Riley laid on.

She glistened with a damp sweat and gripped at the bars of the gurney, so tight her knuckles were whiter than her already pale skin.

Kala brushed Rileys hair from her forehead. "Kala?" Riley asked.

"I'm here. I've got the supplies." Kala soothed.

Riley started to weep. "It hurts."

Kala grabbed Rileys hand. "I know"

Nomi placed her hand over their hands. " _We_ know, but you have to do it now."

Riley nodded, as tears ran down her face. She focused on the knot in her gut, and began to unfurl it. Riley spasmed, as she felt her nerves turn into ice. Riley gasped as she saw the new cluster.

* * *

Tomas, a young Swiss chef with black hair and amber eyes stood in the chaos of a five star kitchen. The steam in the kitchen caused a damp sweat to form on his forehead, while he chopped carrots.

Tomas stopped and looked out of the service window of the kitchen. His eyes zero in on a young woman with pale skin and blonde hair. She looked at him with such love, he became immobilised.

* * *

A blue-eyed Parisian blonde named, Maggie laid on the bed in a tight red dress. The man beside her counted out the Euros he had to pay her for the night. She felt uncomfortable on the cheap motel bed, but she ignored the discomfort.

Maggie bolts up at the sudden appearance of a blonde pale woman at the edge of the bed, who looked at her with a knowing expression.

* * *

A homeless Australian woman named, Sullivan with light brown hair and dark blue eyes sat at a bus stop, while the rain poured down hard from the dimming sky. She watched the fog erupt from her breath into the cold air.

Sullivan's eyes focused from the fog on to the woman in the middle of the street. There eyes pour into one another.

* * *

A bulky Scot with lengthy red hair named Michael charged through the field with a rugby ball tucked under his arm. He dodged a few of the opposing players to the cheers of the crowd. Michael looked to be clear, but caught the sight of a young woman on the field. He stopped and got side tackled into the grass.

Michael felt the air leave his lungs,and the ball leave his grip. His tackler stole the ball, while he laid on his side staring and the woman in confusion.

* * *

At the end of a dead-end street near a cliff at the beach. A petite Brazillian woman named Marisa climbed out of a green racing car to a crowd of people. The cheers faded away, as her eyes were draw to the burning horizon, and she saw the silhouette of a woman and her faint haunted expression.

* * *

An English medical student with strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes named Beth sat on a park bench with her head in her hands. Tears dropped on to the pavement beneath her.

Without thinking Beth looked up to see a woman stood across from her with a sympathetic expression and love in her eyes.

* * *

Shio, a young Filipino-Japanese man with spiky black hair, anchor beard and dark eyes stood outside a coup. He was yelling with the crowd at the battler roosters in the coup. His fist clenched around the ticket in his hand.

The cheers began to fade, and his harsh expression softened at the instant appearance of a pale blonde woman in the middle of the coup. Shio froze, gobsmacked at this beautiful ghost.

* * *

Ripples of swamp water formed in the wake of a tin boat driving upstream. In the back sat, Daniel a young blonde brown eyed man in a tank top and short. His eyes were focused on the bloddy dampness protruding from the tarp wrapped body.

His hands were shaky, and his face scrunched, as he attempted to fight back the sobs he was desperate to make. He's fearful of the response from the driver if he did.

Daniel turned his head toward the shore and catches sight of a blonde woman. Time appeared to slow down as the boat drove past her. He felt safer the longer he looked, but when he turned around to see her from the end of the boat, she was gone.

* * *

Riley came back to herself to see the ceiling moving. The only things that remained constant were Kala and Nomi.

"Did you see them?" Nomi questioned.

Tears ran down, Riley's face and she smiled. "They were beautiful."


	2. Chapter 2

Marisa stared at the horizon and is scooped up by, Julio, her boyfriend. Julio lifts her high into the air proud of her for winning the race. Marisa looked back out to where the ghost woman had stood, but she was gone.

"You did it!" he exclaimed, and brought her back down for a kiss.

His stubble scratched her face, but Marisa smiled at him welcome for a distraction from the strange hallucination she had just suffered. Marisa liked Julio and is glad she'd met him almost a year ago. Julio is supportive, handsome and loving. Julio had been Marisa's first race and first boyfriend soon after.

Marisa has always been enamoured by his dark hair, muscular form and bright smile. Julio is also a tall man, which is further evident when Marisa stands next to him. Marisa is five foot four and comes up to Julio's chest.

The crowd began to part, like the Red Sea to reveal, Hector Alberto, the head of the Falcon's Eye race crew. Hector is Cuban born, but moved to Brazil when he was sixteen and in the course of nineteen years built a small empire, which has since developed international ties to crime organisations around the world, for transportation. As the Falcon's Eye were the number one racer crew in all of South America.

However they have a limited number of twelve in their team, and only accepted the elite of the elite. Those who were accepted were treated like kings and queens.

Hector walked toward through the silent crowd in a sharp white suit. Hector stood out like a tan line among the dark and dirty hoodlums around him. The two men behind him in pitch black were like his shadows with pistols holstered at their sides ready to point and shoot if ordered.

Marisa stood cautiously while Julio stared at him, bewitched with admiration at the man he wanted to be. Hector and his shadows stopped a small distance from them and held out his hand for Marisa. Julio in excitement did not notice the specification of the handshake and grabbed Julio's and shook.

"It's an honour to meet Mr Alberto," Julio said, excited.

Hector is not impressed by Julio's interruption, but smiles and shakes out of politeness, and again offers his hand to Marisa, who took it.

"That was incredible driving. I am impressed and that is no small feat."

"Thank you, sir," Marissa said.

Hector chuckled. "Although I do appreciate manners, please call me Hector."

"Okay ... Hector." Marissa said.

Hector's eyes ran across Marisa's car. "I can see why your car is called the Green Hornet."

"It was my mother's favourite colour," Marisa said, with a bittersweet expression. Her mother had died, when Marisa was seven.

"I am very sorry for opening old wounds." Hector apologised.

"It's okay," Marisa assured and smiled, which Hector returned.

"What can we do for you, Hector?" Julio asked, interrupting them.

Hector looked at Julio with a deadpan expression and steel eyes. "I gave Ms Luiz permission to use my name because she has earned that level of respect. You have not."

Julio gulped. "Sorry Mr Alberto. I am just awestruck that you are here." Julio apologised.

Marisa frowned at Julio. She had never seen him grovel or scared, and she didn't like it. Marisa did not enjoy the situation they were in at all, but she felt they had no choice.

Hector's expression did not soften. "Would you mind leaving Ms Luiz and I. I have business to discuss."

"Whatever you want Mr Alberto," Julio replied then gave Marisa a peck on the lips before he moved to go, but Marisa grabbed on to him.

"If you don't mind ... Hector, I would prefer to have my boyfriend with me." Marisa stated. Julio looked hopeful at Hector.

Hector opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of sirens rang through the air. The crowd scattered to their cars, and Marissa felt the urge to do the same but restrained herself. Hector, however, stood calm and looked at his men and nodded toward the Green Hornet.

Hector opened the driver's door for Marisa. "I hope you wouldn't mind giving us a lift."

Marisa opened her mouth, but Julio interrupts her. "Of course not," Julio responded and walked over to the front passenger seat.

Marisa sighed, before getting into the car. Julio neared the passenger door, but one of Hector's henchmen blocked him when he opened the rear door of the car. Julio was about to argue, but the other henchmen handed Hector a sawed-off shotgun.

"I call shotgun," Hector said, and then cocked the gun.

Julio without a word got into the back of the car and then sandwiched into the middle seat between the henchmen. Hector sat in the seat as the engine roared to life.

...

"Is that enough?" he asked.

Maggie snapped her head toward the man on the bed. In front of him sat a stack of Euros on the bed.

Maggie had coughed before she looked back to where the woman had appeared, but no longer stood. Maggie begins to grow confused at what happened, but she still had a job to do.

"Yes, but I have to go to the bathroom, first."

She left to go to the bathroom. As she walked, she eyed the television and gave a curt nod. She hurried to the bathroom, as she wanted to get it done. Maggie locked the door behind her and stood in front of the mirror.

Maggie stared at her red stained lips, smoked eyes and rouged cheeks. This wasn't her and she was tired of having to wear this bullshit on her face.

A knock erupted from the door of the room. Maggie didn't bother to look toward the door, and instead turned the tap.

"Who is it?" Maggie's John asked.

"Room service. A bottle of wine was ordered."

Maggie grabbed some toilet paper, soaked it and began to clean away the make-up. "Police Nationale. Get down on the ground!"

Maggie's an undercover officer, who for the last year has been detailed to sting operations. This was something that Maggie has grown to resent. She itched to investigation crimes of significance - not because she wanted glory or press, but because they would carry the most impact towards not just Paris, but the entirety of France.

Maggie is not a patriot. She is just sick of entrapping idiot tourists and men too lazy to have an actual relationship. The man being handcuffed is the former, but little, Maggie knew not what she had just caught.

A fellow officer banged on the door. Maggie had sighed before she unlocked the door. "What is it?" she asked.

He smiled and held up a black card with the white insignia of an anaconda draped around a naked woman. This is the symbol of the Lords of Eden, an international crime network, which had its toes in all the important forms of crime: drugs, prostitution, the slave trade, money laundry, etc.

A grin formed on Maggie's face, which could rival the Cheshire Cat. Maggie found what she'd been looking for.

...

The sun sizzled like bacon on a pan down on the Daniel and Simon. They walked on one of the few substantial pieces of land in the swamp, with the dead body carried between them on a shoulder each. They had landed on the shore of the marsh, known as 'Gator Grove', and it was Simon's favourite place.

"You wanna know why; this is my favourite place, Dan?" Simon asked rhetorically. Daniel's stomach turned at the sound of Simon saying his name. Plenty of people with twang have said it, but with Simon, it just grates Daniel to the bone.

"This is my favourite place, because of the Gators. They remind me of myself, always have, ever since I was a kid. They have primal needs, and they don't ask permission to fulfil them." Simon began to chuckle at a private thought. "They aren't very particular picky about what they want, though. In their packs, it's the biggest and most dominate that are in charge."

"Congregations." Daniel corrected.

Simon came to an abrupt halt, and looked over to Daniel, with a furrowed brow. "What?"

Daniel stared back at Simon, frozen with fear. He started to regret correcting him. "Um ... congregations are a group of alligators ... not packs." Daniel grumbled.

There is a paused reaction from Simon, and Daniel gulps, fearful that he'd be the second dead body to be alligator food. However Simons' face began to soften and a grin crept on his face. Daniel smiled in return out of nervous tension.

"You're a smart kid, Daniel, that's why I wanted you to work for me. I understand it has been a ... tough first day."

Simon's smiled dropped in an instant and he looked at Daniel with a cold expression. "But don't ever correct me. Having to be corrected means I am wrong, and I am never wrong." He warned.

Daniel's head then snapped behind him to the sound of a door slammed shut. Daniel frowned in confusion. They were in the bayou, not an office or hotel.

"Oi!" Simon yelled. Daniel looked back around to Simon. "What are you doing."

"I thought I heard ... something."

Simon looked around, suddenly paranoid. "Let's get going."

...

Michael woke up in the infirmary of the rugby club. A bright light shining in his eyes, and a pulse of pain throbbed on the back of his head.

"He's awake." The doctor announced.

"Aye, I am. Now stop shining that bloody light in my eye!" Michael ordered.

"Oh sorry." The doctor apologised and clicked the pen light off.

Michael eased himself into sitting position, and saw Wally sitting next to him. Wally is Michael's best friend and teammate, having been mates since they were eight. Wally is a smaller in build than Michael and has short fair hair and dark eyes. Michael could see that he is glad to see him awake, but there is an underlining current of tension.

"We lost didn't we? I am sorry, I got ... distracted." Michael paused; his mind wandered to the woman on the field. Michael is tempted to mention the woman on the field, but a sensation in his gut warns him not to.

Wally gave him a tap on the back. "Don't worry, Mike. That tackler did us all a huge favour and fixed that ugly mug of yours when he knocked you into the dirt." Wally joked, hoping to cheer up the team.

Michael chuckled until he remembered, Sylvie and Daisy. "Where are my girls?" Michael asked.

"Don't worry, Mikey. Your gorgeous wife and adorable four-year-old haven't left you after that terrible tackle. I told, Sylvie you were alright, and it was best she took Daisy home because it was getting late." Wally assured.

"What time is it?" Michael asked.

"It's late. I was tempted to ring an ambulance, but your friend disagreed." The doctor answered. "You don't seem to have a concussion, but I recommend you rest and no driving or actions that require intense focus."

Michael stood up. "I'm going to go to the bathroom first before we leave."

"Okay, Mikey. I'll be in my car."

...

Michael stood in front of the urinal and unzipped his pants. Michael started to pee, when he suddenly heard the sound of guns shots, and he out of reflex crouched down and looked around, but then he felt the warm urine run down himself, and he stood up and tried to brush it off himself.

...

The Green Hornet drifted around the corner of a street avoiding the pair of police vehicles that trailed behind, with rounds of guns being fired. After they clear the corner, Hector climbed through and sat on the open window of the car and aimed with care at the fire hydrant they were about to pass. When they were clear, Hector shot and water sprayed onto the road.

Hector got back in the car. "Turn this corner." He ordered, calmly.

Marissa did as she ordered and did a sharp turn. The cops drove across the water and attempted to follow them and make a sharp turn, but the wheels of their cars wouldn't grip and entered into a roll and the first police car crashed into a wall and the second landed in the first.

Marisa heard the accident, but didn't see, and she felt an array of guilt. She prayed that those men weren't dead. Julio, however, had looked out through the rear window, with a huge smile and wide eyes.

"That was incredible, Mr Alberto!"

Hector ignored Julio and stared at Marisa with a calm expression, as he unloaded the empty shotgun shells, and handed them to one of his shadows. Marisa could see this from her peripheral vision, and is perturbed.

"I believed we have managed to avoid the police for today. You can drop us off outside of Rio de Janerio cathedral."

"You want to go to church?" Marisa asked disturbed.

"I always go to church, when I kill someone," Hector answered, plainly.

...

"Hey, Mike what's taking so -" Wally froze, as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. He watched, as Michael tried to dry his shorts with toilet paper, and the puddle beneath him.

"Michael?" Wally asked.

Michael froze and looked up to see the disgusted and pitying expression on Wally's face. "Wallace it's not what you think."

"Hey, Michael it's okay if you ... had an accident. You did just get knocked out for -"

"Wallace. I didn't piss myself. I was using the urinal when I heard gunshots and I ducked down -"

"Gunshots? I didn't hear any gunshots. Are you alright, Mikey?" Wally asked, concerned, that his friend hit his head harder, then they thought.

"I'm all right, and I know what I heard!" Michael argued and stepped toward Wally. Wally took a step back out of reflex.

"I'm going to get you some pants and towels from your locker," Wally said before he left the bathroom, and a frustrated, Michael behind.

...

Marisa stopped the car outside the cathedral. Hector had continued to stare at Marisa, and Julio is oblivious to this, as he continued to rant about the police chase. Hector snapped his fingers and his thugs pulled Julio out of the car.

"Hey!' Marisa yelled, and opened the door, but Hector put a hand on her arm.

"It's okay. I just wanted to talk to you without him interrupting us. Your boyfriend will be back." Hector assured.

Marisa sighed, and shut the door. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I was going to offer you a candidateship for the free position we have in the Falcon's Eye, but after experiencing you're driving first hand, I want you in my crew," Hector answered.

Marisa looked at him shell-shocked. Marisa had only been racing for less than a year, and now she in a single car chase is offered a position in the number one crew in all of South America.

"But why me?" Marisa whispered.

"You are incredible behind the wheel. You can follow an order well. You are calm under gunfire. I can also see you are loyal." Hector responded, and glanced behind her at, Julio. She followed his gaze.

"Although, I don't see why you are to him," Hector added.

Marisa looked back at Hector. "He's loyal to me, and he doesn't judge."

Hector smirked. "I didn't hear you say the word, love."

Marisa looked away from Hector, and felt a fraction of guilt, within the pain in her heart. "It's safer to be loved than to love," Marisa said.

Hector looked at her with sympathy, before he pulled out a card from his jacket pocket and placed it in her hand with a comforting squeeze. "Call me and we can set up a meeting to iron out the details." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her hand. "Till then, Ms Luiz."


	3. Chapter 3

The rain had stopped, so Sullivan had decided to go to her "sleep zone", as she liked to call it. She wore a shearling leather jacket over a blue hoodie, which was up. Sullivan's glove covered fingers were wrapped around the handles of three, five-gallon black buckets, which she used to busk.

Sullivan's other hand was in her pocket wrapped around a pencil she had sharpened, in case, she got into an altercation. On her back is her travel backpack, it had, all of her clothes, money from donations, sleeping bag, food and notebooks. The bag was light, tight and well convenient.

The air was cold and the night dark and the street lights were beacons of light in this concrete jungle. Few cars travelled down the streets and even fewer people; it was quite different at daytime. Cars in rows, people in herds and all of them headed toward their jobs and responsibilities or families Sullivan was glad to be free of either.

Sullivan is about to turn into the alley of her sleep zone, but then hears a woman scream, its short and less than a second. Sullivan closed her eyes and tried to tune into any more noise.

She heard a muffled voice, the scuffle of shoes and a few loud thuds, and the sounds came from the multi-storey parking lot just down the street. Sullivan opened her eyes and sighed before she left her buckets in the alley and bolts toward the noise.

Sullivan ran down the street and when she was in the entry way of the building, she stopped to listen again. The sound was coming from the first floor, thank god. Sullivan ran around the bend, her breath hitched. She saw a man in black, as he towered over a woman in-between two cars.

"Hey, dickhead!" Sullivan called out.

The man turned around and after he gauged whether Sullivan was a threat, started to approach her, with a crowbar in hand. "What did you just call me?"

Sullivan eyed to the crowbar. "I called you a dickhead." She replied, with conviction.

The man quickened his pace toward her, but Sullivan put up her hand. "Hold up. I know were going to fight, but can I please just catch my breath. I had to run down the frigging street to get here."

The man stopped confused by Sullivan's attitude, as she leant against the wall, as she huffed and puffed, exasperated. Meanwhile, the woman, who had cowered on the ground, got into her car and locked it behind her. The man noticed this and with a growl turned towards the car, crowbar poised.

Sullivan sighed in frustration before she went after the man. As she neared, Sullivan kicked the back of his knee, hard. The man howled in pain, then swung at her, but she stepped out of the way. "Why don't you just piss off!" he yelled.

"Why don't you find a better way to make a living?" Sullivan countered.

The man growled before with a limp leg, swung at Sullivan again. She ducked low, and threw a hook to his solar plexus. The man dropped the crow bar and bent over to clutch his gut, as the hit had caused his diaphragm to spasm, which made it difficult to breath.

Sullivan used this as opportunity to grab his head and knee him in the face, which sent him to the ground. Sullivan kicked the crowbar away and bolted to the woman's car, as she figured she'd done enough to earn a lift.

Sullivan stopped in front of the passenger door, as she remembers the door was locked and looked at the woman, with desperation, the woman in return stared at her, petrified. Sullivan heard the man groan, as he got to his knees, and Sullivan began to panic.

"This is the part where you unlock the bloody door!" Sullivan yelled as she pulled on the handle.

The woman came back to her senses, and reached and unlocked the door. Sullivan tried to pull open the door, but it wouldn't work. She looked over at the man, who stared back at her with a bloody broken nose. Sullivan began to curse inside her head, and pulled at the handle with a violent urgency.

"Let go of the handle!" The woman ordered.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sullivan exclaimed.

Sullivan let go of the handle, and the woman unlocked it again, as the man got to his feet, with a pissed of expression. Sullivan opened the door and dived into the car.

"Drive, drive, drive!" Sullivan ordered.

The woman reversed the car, as the man banged on the car while he screamed profanities. The tires of the car screeched, as it accelerated away. When they reach the entryway, Sullivan told her to go left, which she did. When they neared the alleyway Sullivan had left her buckets in, she told her to stop.

"Why?"

"Just do it, please." Sullivan climbed out of the car, and collected her buckets, then jumped back into the car. The woman pushed down on the accelerator; she looked down at the buckets confused.

"What's with the buckets?" The woman asked, which revealed an American accent.

"This is my drum kit." She replied, plainly. "I'm Sullivan Smee by the way."

The woman's face contorted in confusion. "... Anna."

...

The restaurant had been closed for an hour and only two people remained, Tomas and head chef George Dumas. This had been a common occurrence since George had employed Tomas, which was a month ago. Tomas was the first to be at work and the one of the last to leave, he'd clean the kitchen, check the stock, although it had already been checked and take out the trash.

This was all had been witnessed by Dumas every night, as he sat and looked at the financials. Dumas noted that Tomas had never looked over at him when he did would do the extra work and never expected anything in return, and Dumas admired it.

George Dumas was a world renowned five-star chef, with salt and pepper hair and heavy frame. Dumas had the reputation of having only one restaurant, Piece. However Dumas has planned to open another restaurant in New York, and his son, Max, who has the unfortunate nickname "The Rat" due to his long nose, thin frame and slicked back black hair.

Tomas, as well as most of the staff, are displeased by this decision, because Max is more of a businessman than a chef, as he focuses on the front of the Touse of Piece. Dumas knew this, but family comes first, and Max did from Dumas's perspective care about the business.

As Tomas washed the dishes, his mind wandered to the blond woman. Tomas's heart ached from the memory of her. She had looked at Tomas with so much love, that he was reminded of his mother, and how much he missed her. His mind wandered to her combing his hair in the tub in their small apartment.

"Tomas?" Dumas called, which pulled Tomas from his thoughts.

Tomas wiped his tears from his cheeks with his sleeve. "Yes, chef?"

"Come out here and sit with me. The dishes can be done tomorrow."

Tomas dried his hands and headed out to the floor, where Dumas sat next to a lamp with a pale yellow. Dumas had his back to Tomas and looked over a small stack of papers. Tomas approached the table with a slow pace. Dumas did not look up, as an anxious Tomas sat across from him.

"You are a hard worker, Tomas, and an excellent kitchen hand."

Tomas smiled very proudly that his effort had been noticed by the great, George Dumas. "Thank you, chef."

"When Henry suggested you to me. I was a sceptic, due to your lack of experience in the kitchen, but he was very adamant. How did you get, Henry to convince me with such a passion? He was coy about the details."

"Henry is a good man, and an excellent chef, so he just asked me to cook for him. I cooked a steak with my secret butter seasoning." Tomas answered.

Dumas chuckled. "Secret recipe, huh? How many secret recipes do you have?"

"I have just a few notebooks of recipes. I spend most of my free time creating them." Tomas replied, with an earnest tone.

Dumas stared at him shocked. "Just a few notebooks. Tomas, don't you have a social life? You know a girlfriend or boyfriend?"

Tomas laughed, and his posture softened. "No ... I have never really had a social life. I've always been too busy."

Dumas looked up from his papers, confused. "Busy with what? You are young and you've only been here for a month." Dumas asked.

Tomas looked down at the table with a solemn expression. "I had been helping to provide for my mother and myself since I was sixteen. About two years ago she was diagnosed with breast cancer; she died two months ago." Tomas explained.

Dumas put his pen down and looked at Tomas with a pained and sympathetic expression. He thought about saying his condolences, but he understood the loss of a loved one, and how condolences meant nothing. It was best to erode the sad memories with happy ones, and he knew just the right thing to do.

Dumas stood up and put a firm hand on Tomas's shoulder. "What was your mother's favourite meat?"

Tomas looked up at him confused, unsure why he would ask. "It was chicken."

"Well, then my boy. Let's invent a chicken recipe for your mother."

...

Beth stared at the celling, as she lay in bed. Today had been the last day of her time second last term of medical school, and it had been a whirlwind. She had cried outside school out of anxiety and relief. One more term and she would start her residency, and would be one of the youngest to do so. Beth had decided to end her medical training at Duke in America.

Beth's first year focused on pathology, histology and gross anatomy. For gross anatomy, she had been one of four people in her class to gag at the dissection of the cadavers on the first day. She'd managed to hold out the longest, but when the bowel incision had released a flood of urine and excrement.

Beth's second year was a breeze, in just learning about the diseases she'd encounter in a hospital, such as:

Myocardial infarction (heart attack)

Pulmonary embolism (blood clot in the lungs)

DVT (deep vein thrombosis) (blood clot in the leg)

Rheumatoid arthritis

Congestive heart failure

And the list continued, and Beth would be able to recount every detail of everything because she has an eidetic memory. It has been instrumental in her time at medical school. Beth had chosen to specialise in emergency medicine, because she enjoyed the idea of a job that required a broad range of skills from a different variety of fields.

The door opened, and Beth didn't bother to look up, as she knew it was her roommate, Stacy. Stacey was the complete opposite of Beth in both the physical and personality aspects. Stacy has long straight black hair, five foot eight and always managed to still look beautiful with blood on her shirt, which Beth finds annoying.

"Are you okay, Beth?" Stacey asked.

However, Stacey was a terribly sweet and kind person, which just added to her perfection. You just couldn't hate, Stacey and Beth half-wished she could.

"I'm fine, just tired," Beth replied.

Stacey sat on the edge of Beth's bed and looked down at her with a sympathetic look in her eye. "No wonder you're so tired, you have been kicking ass this year, did you always work so hard at your old school?"

"Yeah, and it sucked, but I am younger than most of my classmates, so I have to prove my worth."

"I do forget how young you are, but then again your height does make you seem like a munchkin." Beth rolled her eyes and turned on her side. "Hey, I was joking. They have humour on your planet, right?"

Beth ignored Stacey and crossed her arms. It's always Beth's height that she is teased about, and although she knows, Stacey had only tried to cheer her up, Beth was still annoyed.

...

Shio sat at a booth inside The Temple. The largest casino in all of Manila, it was one of the biggest pieces of revenue in the Philippines, as it drew in gamblers from all around the world. Shio, however, was born here.

Black porcelain tiles graced the walls and floor, with the occupied furniture covered in red leather. Shio still wore his pale green tank top but had changed into black suit jacket and pants. Shio had decided since he was going to come here, he might as well look snappy enough for the joint, and if he was going too died he might as well die lookin good.

He downed his glass of palm wine, and moved to get out of the booth, but a woman's hand pressed him back to the booth. Shio's eyes ran up her arm to see a beautiful Filipino woman with flowing blonde hair and blue contact eyes.

Shio's eyes couldn't help but wander along her hour-glass figure, as she wore a short red dress, which looked so tight it's as if she'd been poured into it. She pulled from behind her a bottle of bubble gum lambanog.

"Do you mind sharing this bottle with me?" She asked, with a light tone.

Shio realized he had his jaw slack, like a dog in front of a juicy steak and shut it. "I'd love the distraction," Shio replied, and motioned to the side of the booth in front of him. She smirked, before she slid in next to him, and poured a fraction of the liquor into Shio's glass.

"I'm Dalisay."

"I'm Shio."

Dalisay smiled, as she swigged the glass. She exhaled from the cold burn in her throat, before she poured it again, her eyes lingered on Shio's.

"What do you need distracting from?" Dalisay asked, and slid the glass toward Shio.

"Ah ..." Shio chuckled before he guzzled the drink. "I'm thinking about doing something. Something that could get me killed."

Dalisay looked at him with a raised brow. "Well, what, may I ask is this death-inducing decision?" she asked, as she took another swig.

"I have been avoiding the card tables at this place since I became legal, but tonight I decided to stop avoiding them," Shio explained, and then swigged the glass.

"Why exactly is that so dangerous?"

"I don't lose, and this place never likes to lose money."

"People win money every day."

"That's the trick. If you don't get the urge to continue on your lucky streak, then you are offered to spend your winnings on the bars, restaurants and extracurricular activities. However, that's only if you win a couple of grand of pesos. I am going to earn a couple of hundred grand, so they'll probably throw me off the roof." Shio explained, with a nonchalance that Dalisay found to be very attractive.

Dalisay had seen plenty of people say they were going to win big, but as she looked at Shio it was different he said all of this information not with confidence, but like it was a stone cold fact he was going to win.

"You want to leave."

"I do. I live in Baseco Bay, and I want to see the world, and in –"

Dalisay put her hand on his crotch. "I meant the bar."


	4. Chapter 4

Tomas walked through the door of his apartment with a broad smile and his arm wrapped around a plastic container, which had the "The Mother Mary". The chicken dish Tomas had made with Dumas. Tomas felt buzzed, as he dropped his keys into the bowl next to the door. Tomas kicked the door shut and headed over to the kitchen.

The lights flicked on and Tomas froze. "Where have you been?"

Tomas sighed before he turned around to look at Henry, who stood with his chiselled arms crossed. "I stayed back at work like I always do."

"I know that, but you don't stay back this late. It's passed midnight." Henry countered, his tone, suspicious.

Tomas chuckled. "I should be the one acting jealous. I am your kept man after all."

Henry looked down in shame. Tomas sighed before he put the container on the dining table, and grabbed a plate. "Sit."

After a moment's hesitation, Henry did as was told. Tomas placed a plate in front of Henry and then peeled off his jacket. Tomas moved with a calm ease, which always left Henry entranced and enticed. Henry had only known Tomas for less than two months, but he was infatuated with the boy before him.

Henry thinks of him as a boy, due to their two decade age difference. This was another item on the list of things that made Henry feel guilt, about his relationship, with Tomas.

Henry had never been with another man before and had never been attracted to anyone other than his wife, Elise. Now he'd bought Tomas an apartment, given him a job and ... the funny thing was Tomas hadn't asked for any of it. Henry had just given it to him. The both of them knew Henry was wrapped around Tomas's little finger.

After Tomas had set up the cutlery, he peeled back the lid of the container, and a savoury aroma flooded the senses.

This is why I was late home. I made it, with Dumas."

"This is heavenly."

Tomas laughed. "That's befitting because it's called 'The Mother Mary'."

"After you're mother?"

Tomas nodded and placed it onto their dishes. Henry began to cut into it when Tomas stopped him. Henry looked at him confused, and Tomas stared back at him with a coy half-smile.

Tomas began to walk behind Henry. "This is a messy dish." Tomas ran his hands down Henry's chest and craned himself into the nape of Henry's neck. "I'd hate this get this shirt dirty." Tomas sighed into Henry's ear and began to unbutton his shirt.

Henry exhaled into submission, as he closed his eyes to feel better, Tomas's caresses, which were light and sharp and in sync with his sighs. Tomas's hands wandered near his groin, and Henry waited in anticipation, but Tomas pulled away and Henry's shirt in hand.

"Eat," Tomas ordered.

Henry was the one who issued the orders but was too tantalised to refuse. He took a bite, and his jaw tense and salivated at the flavours; it was delicious. Tomas looked at him excited with anticipation.

"Wow, is that pecan sauce ... with a dollop of bourbon?"

"Yes, it is. Do you like it?"

"I love it."

Tomas smiled and walked over to the fridge. Henry continued to eat the dish, but then realised, Tomas wasn't eating.

"Aren't you going to have some?"

Tomas shut the fridge, and paced with the finesse of a lion, with an eased step toward, Henry. Henry put down his fork and gulped from reflex, as Tomas kneeled beside him.

Henry opened his mouth but was silenced when Tomas twisted Henry's seat towards him with a single hand. From behind himself, his other hand revealed a can of whipped cream.

"I'm going to have desert instead," Tomas answered, before he undid Henry's pants, and peeled them off. "Keep eating."

Henry picked up his fork and continued to eat. His eyes never left Tomas, who shook the can and eyed Henry's penis, which throbbed against his briefs ready to stand tall.

Then in the swish of a moment, Tomas is in an elevator with Dalisay, and he felt a deep-seated hunger for her, and he pushed her against the wall of the elevator and began to devour her. The ringing of a phone forced him to pull away, and he found himself back on his knees. Henry's phone rang from his pants, and with a growl of frustration, Henry reached for it and answered it.

"Hello?"

Tomas stayed on his knees, as he still reeled from that strange encounter.

"Elise. What's wrong?"

Her name drew Tomas away from himself; as he listened to Henry speak to her.

"No, I'm just finishing up, there was a leak in the sink, and they needed someone to stay around for a plumber to arrive."

Tomas slammed the can on the table and got up. Henry grabbed Tomas's wrist, but Tomas ripped it away and started to put the food away. Henry could see, Tomas was in a rage, so he tried to hurry up the end of his conversation.

"I'm not sure when I'll be home."

Tomas turned around and nodded his head. "Yes, you do it's right fucking now." Tomas whispered.

"I'll maybe be home in an hour, but don't stay up. Okay, see you then, love you too." Henry ended the call. He looked at Tomas.

"Baby –"

"Don't baby me motherfucker. I asked you to do one thing when we started this. Don't lie to her in front of me. I feel like the biggest piece of garbage right now."

Henry stood up and began to approach Tomas. "Tomas, I'm sorry I forgot –"

Tomas stormed away from Henry and opened the door. "Hopefully, that stiffy will help you remember on the way home to your wife."

"Tomas, I care about you."

"I don't give a shit. Get out!"

...

After Sullivan and Anna had escaped, the subject of Sullivan's homelessness was brought up, after Anna had offered to drive her home. Anna without any hesitation offered her the spare room in her flat. Sullivan had agreed out of reluctance, and now they waited at the traffic light. They were behind a jeep, and when the light turned green, the vehicle didn't move, as the driver was on the phone.

Sullivan, who had started resting on her buckets, sat up, reached over and honked the horn. The driver ignored her honks.

"I can try to drive –" Anna began.

Sullivan stuck her head out of the window. "Oi dickhead!"

"Or we can do that," Anna commented.

The driver stuck his arm out and flipped, Sullivan the bird. Sullivan's mouth opened from shock. "Motherfucker."

The man from the jeep heard this and got out of the car, phone in hand. He was bald, around six feet tall and overweight. The man was a physical juggernaut and he knew it. Anna was, however, more alarmed for the both of them.

"Are you supposed to be intimidating? I've fucked bigger women in better shape, asshole." Sullivan said.

The man charged at them and Anna pushed on the ignition and with a screech drove away. Sullivan, as they drove away, stuck up her finger, as she reared out of the window.

Anna pulled her back in. "Are you crazy?"

The agitation Sullivan felt had dissipated, as swiftly as it appeared and Sullivan sobered up to what she'd just done.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I usually ignore that type of stuff, but I just felt, so pissed off."

Anna was tempted just to drop this stranger off, and go home and forget this crazy night. However she saw how authentic Sullivan's remorse was and Anna knew she wasn't a psycho; she is a woman that save her once and defended her twice.

"It's okay, that guy was an asshole."

Anna attempted to laugh at the situation, but a haunted look had been carved in Sullivan's face.

...

Maggie paced in the office of her supervisor, John, as she waited for him to arrive with the results of the DNA test. Her head throbbed from a migraine she had started to develop. Maggie had changed from her red dress to jeans and white shirt beneath a dark crimson jacket, which had belonged to her father.

The door opened and John sighed out of frustration at the sight of her. "Maggie, I told you to wait –"

"He's got a record hasn't he?" Maggie interrupted.

John opened his mouth to replied, but he is interrupted. "Yes, he does." John parts the way for a short woman with raven black short hair, who appeared to be in her early fifties. She stood with an aura of authority in a navy suit. "However I don't see how that involves you."

Maggie has her whole life come to instant conclusions about a person and whether she would like them or not and she has never been wrong in those conclusions. Maggie had come to an immediate conclusion; she did not like this woman. Maggie is about to vocalise this, but John had intercepted.

"Maggie Thero is the arresting detective."

"Oh the undercover prostitute."

Maggie clenched her fists, as her skull throbbed further.

...

Shio thrust into Dalisay from behind, as she was bent over the bed. Their clothes were still on except for her underwear. Dalisay's moans were muffled by the bed, as Shio continued to thrust deeper, harder and quicker.

"You're so tight." Shio wheezed.

"I'm not, you're just so thick." She panted, as she fisted the sheets.

"Do you want me to ease up?"

"Fuck no!"

...

Anna opened the door to her apartment, and Sullivan followed her in. Sullivan whistled at the sight of her flat. It had hardwood floors and brick walls, which were covered by several paintings that Sullivan found to be incredible. Sullivan's eyes followed them toward the massive window. Sullivan walked forward and got an excellent view of Hyde Park.

Her furniture, which consisted of a couch and two sofa chairs were made from dark leather, and were placed on top of an almost zebra-like patterned rug. This was only half of the room, as she turned to see the kitchen, which had a black porcelain island, with three black stools.

Sullivan felt a wave of heat.

"Do you have the heater on?" Sullivan asked, as she peeled off her bag, and jacket.

"I don't have a heater."

"Oh well. Let's pray it's not menopause."

Anna laughed and grabbed Sullivan's jacket and put it up on the hook beside the door. Anna reached for her bag, but Sullivan snapped it away. Sullivan saw that she'd hurt Anna's feelings, even behind the smile.

"Sorry, it's just a knee-jerk instinct to not let people touch my bag."

Anna smiled. "It's okay."

Anna continued to look at Sullivan, with an expression Sullivan hadn't seen before. "What?" Sullivan asked.

"Your eyes are very ... blue, it's like if the ocean and the sky blended together."

"I wish I could say the same, but you have brown eyes." Sullivan joked.

Anna laughed, with a nervous tone. "I'm sorry to stare, but I'm an artist, so I'm into colour."

"You're an artist?" Sullivan asked, intrigued.

Anna walked over to living room. "I'm a part-time artist, full-time journalist, but yes I'm an artist."

"I like to draw and paint when I can."

"What about your drums?" Anna asked, playful.

"The drums are my main source of income. People lose their shit for it. Actually I could show you." Sullivan offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah, and plus this wooden floor will help."

Sullivan unzipped her bag and pulled out a pair of drumsticks, then grabbed her buckets and sat with her back against the window. Anna sat on the couch, while Sullivan arranged the buckets, one of which she sat on, and another planted between her feet.

"Ready?" Sullivan asked.

"Fire at will."

Sullivan started and rapid fire of beat went off. Anna watched with amazement, not at the speed, but at the rhyme played. Sullivan would tilt the bucket between her feet to hollow out the beat, and tap against the rim of the bucket for a tight tap. To add a higher note, she'd throw one of her sticks against the ground and catch it when it would bounce back up.

...

Michael was relaxing while he and Max were in traffic. Max had offered to drive him to work, after his accident from last night. Michael started to hear the beat of drums, which were thunderous and wasn't helping his headache. "Max, can you please turn off the radio, it's too loud."

"The radio isn't on." Max replied.

"Come off it." Michael sat forward and reached for the radio, but he stared confused because it was off. Maybe he did hit his head too hard.

...

As Shio came closer to climax, he started to hear the drum beat, and he tried to match its paced, and a heave-ho of gasps and moans passed between Shio and Dalisay before they came. After a few brief moments, they collapsed onto the bed.

"That was incredible." Dalisay sighed. However Shio could barely hear her, as the beat continued. Dalisay climbed on top of Shio for round two.

...

When Sullivan finished, there was an enthusiastic clapping from Anna. "I understand why people lost their shit."

"Thanks."

Sullivan looked down to see she'd developed a sweat and had started to feel her clit pulse, which she found strange. "Um ... Do you mind, if I have a shower?" Sullivan asked, avoiding eye contact with Anna.

"No, no at all, it's down the corridor first down on the left."

"Thanks." Sullivan stood up, and walked away.

...

Sullivan stood under the shower head, her hands pressed against the wall, as she leant against it for support. Sullivan felt aroused and she had no idea why. Her clit continued to throb and had gotten harder to ignore, so she reached down between her legs and began to rub herself. Sullivan closed her eyes and continued to lean against the wall. Then Sullivan felt a hand on her back and she jumped away from it. Her arms covered the important bits, as she saw Anna in the bathroom, in her black underwear.

Sullivan stared wide-eyed at her. She had a short, tight body, and peaches and cream skin that Sullivan wanted to sink her teeth into. "Do you mind if I join?" Anna asked.

Sullivan had the urge to say yes, but she remembered she's in a strangers shower, and she wouldn't in the shower, let alone a strangers shower. She grabbed a towel and her clothes. Sullivan tried her best to her pants on, as she headed for the door.

Anna ran in front of her and tried to block her way.

"Wait. I'm sorry. I just – "

Sullivan pushed her to the side, and went down the hall to her jacket. She turned her back to Anna, as she wrapped herself in her jacket, zipped it up, and pulled it down, so it wrapped around her waist.

Sullivan had turned to pick up her bag, but it was gone. She saw Anna had it in her hand, as she stepped toward the kitchen.

"I'm sorry. I read the situation wrong, but don't go."

"Give me the bag!" Sullivan ordered, as she advanced on her.

Anna did her best to dart away from her, but Sullivan grabbed Anna's shoulders and pushed her against the counter. They were flush together, as Sullivan loomed over her, without a thought Sullivan kissed her. Anna kissed her back and it shifted into a passionate series of kisses. Sullivan lifted her onto the kitchen island, so Anna was only a little higher.

Anna's hands tangled in Sullivan's wet hair, as Sullivan's lips wandered from Anna's lips, down to her neck and settled on her breasts. Sullivan surrendered to her previous urge and bit into Anna's breast. Anna gasped from pain and pleasure at the sensation. She pulled Sullivan's hair to bring her back up, so she could silence herself with a kiss.

Anna's tongue drew into Sullivan's mouth, but Sullivan bit her, and then pushed her, so she fell back on to the counter. Sullivan pushed her further up the counter, and was on top of her in an instant; her mouth hot on Anna's, while hands caressed her every curve. However when Anna tried to unzip Sullivan's jacket, Sullivan pinned her hands above her head.

"Clothes stay on." Sullivan breathed in-between a kiss.

"But how –"

Sullivan muzzled her with a kiss and positioned herself between Anna's legs, so she was in missionary position, but her pelvis was higher up Anna's body. This was for more direct contact between them.

Sullivan let go of Anna's hands and began to grind against, Anna, firm yet slow, so she'd get a handle of it. Sullivan felt the damp heat of Anna's breathe in the nape of her neck, as she continued to grind against her. Sullivan's hands gripped Anna's shoulders from under her, for support, while Anna herself had a strong gripped on Sullivan's wet hair. She couldn't believe she was beneath a perfect stranger on top of her kitchen counter.

Sullivan's pelvis rubbed against Anna, so slow, that Anna ached from the sensation. Anna cupped Sullivan's lower back and attempted to speed her up.

Sullivan rolled them off the counter and landed on her feet with Anna's legs wrapped around her, tight.

"Take me against the window. I've always wanted to do, that." Anna said.

Sullivan walked toward the window, but then she stubbed her toe against a chair on the way.

"Are you alright?" Anna asked.

"I'm fine." Sullivan replied with gritted teeth, before she headed toward the window. Anna kissed her neck on the way, and was slammed against it.

The wind was knocked out of her, and could barely recover, as Sullivan crashed their mouth together and grinded her pelvis against her, like a hard with a moderate pass. Anna felt so aroused, as she was pressed against Sullivan and the window where anyone could see, she tried to ignore the tug of her bare skin against the glass, but Sullivan noticed Anna's pained inhales.

Sullivan pulled her from the window, but Anna broke their kiss. "Please." Anna begged.

Sullivan sighed in frustration, before she dropped Anna to her feet and spun her toward the window and grinded into her from behind, her grip secure on Anna's waist. There was less of a direct friction for Anna from this position, but Sullivan reached between Anna's legs, through her cotton underwear.

Both of their bodies were damp from sweat, as Sullivan grinded into Anna with vigorous exertion, as the both of them came closer to the edge of climax. After a final rapid fire of thrust, Anna came with a loud, long gasp, while Sullivan's grip tightened around Anna.


	5. Chapter 5

Unfortunately I am going to discontinue this story due to lack of interest.

I am sorry to all who became attached to this story.


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